Sun's Madness
by pianoplayer01
Summary: Christine is a 15 year old girl who has just been sent to live with her aunt Giry and her cousin, after the tragic loss of her parents in a fatal car accident. But will the new girl find a friend in the strange town of Lake-side? Or will she forever be locked in the past?
1. Chapter 1 - prologue and moving away

Prologue

There are many beautiful places in the world, but often is said that a place can be made even more special just by it being a place you spend time with the ones that you care about. Such as home can be a word associated with any thing from a caravan, to a tree house, to a kennel for a dog. And a place doesn't have to be beautiful to mean some thing. Like a person, if you love them enough, you see them as perfect. Because, even though no one is, you learn to look past the imperfections and accept them for what they are. Every one makes mistakes after all.

Chapter one – Moving away

It was that cross over between autumn and summer, where the trees leaves were drying up and crunching beneath hasty feet on their way home, but the grass was still green enough to compliment the gnarled tree trunks that lined the street. It was still warm enough to walk around without a scarf but, every now and then a gust of wind would curl around the shoulders, making passers by shudder and encourage themselves to get a larger coat, soon.

It was on such a day, that a Miss. Christine Daae was helping to load boxes of her things in to the beaten up blue Corsa that belonged to her Aunt Moira Giry. "Christine, could you do me a favour and go and get the last of the stuff from the living room?" Moira's voice was muffled as she leaned in to the small car boot, using her shoulder to push the boxes back to allow more space for the new ones. "Yes Aunty!" Christine's shrill voice called back, as she stretched her arms forward, aching from the weight of full boxes, and rushed back in to the small three bedroom house on Mezzo Avenue.

Looking around the old house, it was hard to believe she had lived here for all fifteen years of her life up until this point. If she was honest, she thought she would at least turn 16 in that house a few months later, but it appeared she would not be so lucky. This place was her home, it was one of those fairytale places you dream of growing up in, but only ever see in films. All of her old school friends had felt welcome in the sanctuary of this place when they visited from school.

The walls were not black and white as in most modern house holds, they were instead a pale honeysuckle colour, with hand carved shelves that her father had made and hung up with the help of her mother when Christine was still too young to remember things, but just old enough to toddle around and make trouble by lifting up a paint brush covered in superglue, and nearly eat it because she didn't know what it was.

The walls used to be covered with photographs, days out at the sea side, trips to the local fair, all of the holidays and the numerous embarrassing school pictures from across the years. At least Christine thought they were embarrassing, her parents had always told her she shone like the sun in their lives and led the way for them. But now, it appeared she was leaving them behind.

She walked in to the next room; the dining room, that used to have the large oak table in the middle with 12 chairs in total because, she always had friends over. As a creature of habit, they were often the same friends, but her parents were always inviting over relatives she never even knew she had, people from work too. In the corner, that was where they kept the cheap second hand piano that her mother loved so to play, some of the markings in the carpet were still there, the only proof that that piano had ever been there at all.

The dining room was divided in half, as it was a very large room, the other half made its use as a kitchen and stored the standard equipment and utensils alongside a small glass cupboard, where the family stored baked goods. Each of them loved to bake, mainly they just liked the fact that they were one of the few families they knew that still ate home made food at a table. No frozen any thing could ever be found. Unless you counted ice cream.

Down the small hall way, where visitors left shoes, coats and hats, up the creaky old stair case with its faded lilac carpet, there were only four doors. One was a coat closet, that stored only three pairs of hiking boots, a bin bag of old clothes for the charity shop and a worn patch work quilt that her parents had in their room in the winter. Opposite that door at the other end of the landing, was the bathroom, which pretty much fit the average description of bathrooms.

The other two doors sat side by side in the longest wall that was set, right in between the two other doors facing one another. The one nearest the coat closet, belonged to Christine's parents. She didn't enter now, for fear of what it would look like. She didn't visit it often, only when she wanted to wake her parents up early, such as Christmas day or their birthdays. From what she could remember, there were two wardrobes with a dressing table in between, and a balanced amount of her parents belongings were spread across every thing as, they didn't believe in keeping secrets, whether they be objects or vocal.

The only other objects she remembered being in the room was a comfortable double bed, with three shelves above it, containing the Daae library, as her father used to joke. Though the only books the library contained were her fathers music scores and science fiction novels and her mothers fairytale book and romance novels.

Lastly, was her room, the largest room upstairs that her parents were so kind as to sacrifice for her and her dance practice. She turned the door handle and the door swung open softly, not making a sound as it turned over the soft carpet, a sea green colour it was and so soft beneath bare feet. But she only knew that from memory, now her feet were covered in plain black lace up shoes and all she could feel was the uncomfortable feeling that came with old shoes that you were growing out of.

She sniffled, a tear rolling down her face. This wasn't her room any more. Her room had been covered in trophies, photos of every thing from her favourite theatre performances, to the last picture taken with her grandmother. Where had the bookshelf gone? And her small bed by the window that always seemed to glow as she rose each day? But it was the window that brought her to her knees, her face in her hands, sobs bursting from her lungs as she gasped for air.

The window had been a gift from her father on her very first birthday. It was a stained glass window, depicting an angel, playing the violin.

"_When I am gone soon-" "Father don't talk like that, you're going to be fine," she had stroked his pale face softly with her hands, ignoring the tubes attached to his nose, to his mouth, to every where, to keep him breathing. There were so many wires attached to him, he looked like a pin cushion. _

"_No, Christine," a cough shook his frail body, "Listen, please, listen," his eyes flickered. "I'm listening father," she sobbed, clutching his hand with both of hers. "When I am gone, you will be protected by an angel," cough, cough, a deep breath, "an angel of music. And he will watch over you, and as long as he does, I will never," cough, "be faraway."_

"Christine, have you found the last of those boxes, ouch," Moira's voice snapped Christine out of her flash back, and she startled to her feet, looking back once at the window that was already imprinted in to her mind forever, scarring her heart with its story. She turned out of the room, closing the door, before fleeing down the stairs and stumbling in to the living room. Despite being so emotionally unstable, she picked up the last box without a single tear. A great feet considering that, the last box contained her father's precious Stradivarius violin, wrapped, alongside its bow, in the beaten leather case it inhabited. Even holding it in a great cardboard box and hard leather case didn't feel like enough protection for it.

The sun stung her eyes as she stepped out side, closed the front door made of pine with the number 81 printed on it in bronze and posted the keys through the front letter box, whilst balancing the box cautiously between her free arm and her hip. The front garden was alive in the evening sun set, the trees leaves whispering to her in the breeze, calling her name. The pansies faces gazed up at her, their faces wet with rain, they looked like they had been crying.

Running now, to the car, she didn't look back, as she handed the box to her aunty. "Ok Kiddo' climb in the front, I'll be around in a second," Christine smiled appreciatively and walked around to the front of the car, suppressing the urge to both laugh and cry at her aunty trying to close the car boot.

The driver's door closed with a metallic slam, as Moira climbed in to sit before the steering wheel. She pulled the sunglasses resting on the top of her head down to cover her eyes. "Let's go!" she beamed warmly, but sadness and guilt heavy in her eyes, because she had no idea what her niece was going through, none at all.

As the car revved unsurely to life and took off, away from the neat avenue with its tall blossom trees, it houses sleeping lazily next to one another; the sky was on fire as the sun descended further into shadow. The last thing that Christine saw of all she knew, was her next door neighbours cat jumping down from the fence and climbing up the Daae apple tree, in an attempt to catch a sparrow.

Christine stared straight ahead, her eye lids lazy but, she felt wide awake, as she turned away without a choice, from every thing she knew as it was. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where our story begins.


	2. Chapter 2 - Different

Chapter 2 – different 

"Christine!" Her not so calm friend attacked her in a hug, in a blur of blonde ballet bun and pink point shoe ribbon. "I can't believe you're coming to live with us, it's going to be like one big huge giant sleepover," a giant giggle burst up through her friends mouth, and made her blue eyes sparkle with the light of a thousand stars. Meg linked arms with her cousin, leading her in to the living room away from her mothers ears. "You know, mother even got DVD's and pizza to celebrate!"

Meg was one of the few people that nobody could ever hate or say a bad word against. Forever laughing at some thing or with a giant friendly smile on her face, she always made you feel accepted, which was some thing Christine herself possessed without even realising.

"Meg Giry, are you telling me you're messing with your diet program?! You know how badly you want to be a dancer, plus I don't mind eating your slice!" The two girls collapsed in a giggling heap on the sofa, and it made a wonderful change to Christine to have some one in her arms shaking of laughter instead of heart break.

The laughter died abruptly and they suddenly realised how every thing was different now from their regular summer meetings. But neither knew how to bring up the subject without upsetting the other. The TV remained off too, because they both knew the channels were crawling with shows on the death of the Daae violinist who's music had so vastly changed the entire century. Megs eyes were burning with questions, but Christine didn't have the energy to answer all of them just yet. "So how has life been?" she asked, blowing the lone curl out of her eye.

Megs eyes flashed, and Christine knew immediately that she would have a headache soon, because once you got Meg talking you could never get her to stop.

"Well, school have changed the uniform policies, skirts can be shorter now, which is awesome because me and Elle just found these cute little plaid skirts that go so well with the whole concept of jean jackets with badges. Plus, if we have to wear skirts down to our knees we'll look like nuns, and what sane boy at our school would ask us out on a date if we were dressed like that? Its totally ridiculous I know but-" " Meg?" "Yes Chrissy Chris chris?" Christine rolled her eyes and mock punched her cousin in the shoulder, which only made Meg giggle.

"You should really breathe in between rants." Moira's timing was perfect, she finished carrying the last of the boxes in, which she dumped in the hall way before demanding that the girls sort out her room immediately. "You'll be staying in the guest room dear, but should you ever get lonely, Megs room has the spare bunk which you can take" Meg coughed to interrupt "But if you ever want to take the top bunk, just know that you owe me many a slice of pizza" Christine rolled her eyes again and picked up the first box. "Meg grab your dance bag, you have rehearsal" "But mum, Chrstines only just got here and-" "She's still going to be here when you get back, now give the poor girl some space, and get your dance bag!" "Eurgh fine" "Why did I get the diva of a daughter?" Moira teased as Meg stuck her tongue out at her mum walking in to the kitchen.

"I saw that!" Moira said. "Sorry I cant help you unpack Chris" "Its fine really," Christine smiled, "Have fun at rehearsals, say hi to Elle for me!" "Will do, later!"

The door slammed shut just as Christine arrived at the guest bedroom with her last box ten minutes later. It took her in total, half an hour to unpack and get her things sorted. The room was white, with a small Victorian wooden trunk at the end of her single bed to put her clothes in, which also fit her small bible and her book of all of the Jane Austen novels ever, which she loved dearly. They had been a gift for her 13th birthday from her father, first edition, containing them all, from Emma to pride and prejudice. The bed was beneath a window with curtains as white as the walls.

Beneath the bed, right in the corner, Christine placed the only other things she had brought with her, other than her clothes and her two books. The first was a plain black box, filled with sheet music and a few unframed photographs. The other was her green army satchel, she took it every where, it had been hers for as long as she could remember. The badges were on the inside, because she was so scared of losing them if they fell off. It contained her text books and note books and her old nokia mobile phone, which she didn't have much use for – she hated technology.

Already bored. Christine perched on her bed looking out of the window at the sky. It was ink stained with night fall and only two stars were in sight under the cover of the stars. The silence around her roared wickedly, making her shiver, breaking her still reflection in the windows glass. She found herself kneeling with her hands joined before she even knew what her own intent was. "Dear God" she prayed. "I don't know if you're up there, or if you can even here me, I guess I understand if you cant. There are so many people in this world, they all have their own prayers, so I cant imagine it'll be easy picking me out from all of them, I am quite puny and my voice isn't nearly as loud as Meg's." She coughed nervously, her eyes remained closed.

"Please, send my love as always to my parents, I miss them so much, but I understand that you needed them far more than I do," she paused uncertain of what to say next, "But some times I wonder if you do. But I cant question you, I believe you must have had some purpose. But my purpose for prayer this evening is not for my parents, it is for me. A selfish prayer, if you will allow it." She listened for omens, cautioning her to stop, but other than the slow roar of traffic and silence in its fearsome quarrel, there was nothing.

"I – I would like very much for a friend, father spoke so often of an angel of music watching over me and-" she breathed shakily, feeling a lump in her throat, "Although I am grateful for that promise, for my angel of music, I need a human friend, some one who can understand me. Meg and Moira are sweet, but-" she took another breath before sighing, opening her eyes to the darkened sky. "They're nothing like me," she whispered. Her large brown eyes lifted imploringly to the skies, but she could see no signs of an answer. "Amen" Then Christine closed the curtains, changed in to her night gown and was just about to lock the door, when she saw she had missed a box.

"Fathers violin"

She picked up the box carefully, and hid it with her treasures in the corner beneath her bed. She kept making herself promises that she would learn to play it, but so far she didn't have the amount of courage necessary to begin. Plus there was no one to teach her. She knew a little, but her main instruments were piano and voice, and in the immediate future, she couldn't predict any prodigious talents changing any thing. She was nothing like her father in personality. Nor her mother. She had her mothers tiny body, her fathers dark hair and eyes with the pale skin that seemed almost translucent, but on the inside, there was nothing like them. Only a good heart was a common feature amongst them.

After stowing away the violin, she closed the door and locked it. After which she crawled in to bed. It had been a long journey and a devastating day. She felt emotionally and literally crushed. As the silence surrounded her, she fell in to a well earned sleep, with no nightmares to begin with, though her dreams always ended up warping in to them.

She would face the world tomorrow, but right now, she needed this small piece of sanctuary right here, with what was left of herself, because she was no ordinary girl. She was a Daae, and Daae's didn't give up on themselves. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3 - First day

Chapter 3 – First day – Christines point of view from this point

"Well its certainly different to East gate" I mumbled weakly. Meg had offered to walk with me, but she entered the school a different way, towards the dance specialist section, so there was no sense in her walking her all the way to music and tiring herself out before the long day of rehearsals. I tugged on my heavy bag till it was back on my shoulder, before nodding to myself in reassurance and walking forward, through the giant doors, which I guess were blue once, but now looked like a giant cat had scratched them.

I'd gone all out on my outfit, believing first impressions were important. I was dressed in a cream woollen jumper with a red shirt beneath and smart denim jeans. Much to my annoyance, nothing could be done of my hair, it's the colour of violin polish which is nice, but its so curly, its impossible to calm it down.

The hall way was crowded, kids in a multicoloured stream of clothing of every kind, rooting in lockers and tying shoe laces before the bell went to signal they should go to form. They caught my eyes amidst the sea of other students and their conversations stalled abruptly. I avoided their curious gazes the best of my ability, instead choosing to look upon my own shoes, the polish reflecting the blinking lights overhead. That heavy feeling of nerves and worry arose in my stomach again as I caught some of the whispers around me.

"I hear she's an amazing singer, my step brothers went to the same school as her" "Oh the ones who play the violin?" "Tom plays Cello now I think…" "Oh shut up, she's probably awful, I don't get what you're all fussing about, she isn't even pretty!" pouted a red head, who sneered at me when I looked up at her. Her arms were crossed across her chest and her wide green eyes flickered with a hatred I couldn't comprehend. I hadn't been here ten minutes and already I had made an enemy.

They might seem a friendly enough bunch of girls, if they weren't looking at me like I was prey of some kind. I could see the cogs spinning in their minds, judging my hair, the fact that I didn't have my ears pierced, the fact I was wearing jeans and not skirt. Of course I looked different, every one here dressed like they were going to the beach but, I had always been one for old fashioned things. Their eyes were circling me. My eyes returned to the stream of lockers in a row beside my shoulder.

"Locker 246, locker 246, locker 246," I whispered to myself. Christine for crying out loud, remember how to walk, good good, now remember how to breathe – ah here we are! I came to a stop in front of my locker and opened it quickly. It no longer creaked due to often being used. I placed my science text books inside, then debated on who I could talk to.

Behind me, the group of predators still lurked, applying lip gloss with angry stabs. Even I knew speaking to them was a lost cause. On my left were 3 boys discussing a new novel. It was one I had seen advertised in the science fiction section back home and quite fancied learning about, but they were deeply engrossed I couldn't bear to interrupt their concentration. On my right was a lone stranger, dressed all in black, except for a red shirt collar. I closed my locker and walked slowly towards him, so as not to frighten him. I could feel peoples eyes every where.

As I drew closer, I noticed that on half of his face, her wore a black mask and on top of his black hair he wore a hat, that stooped low over the half of his face with the mask, but still cast enough shadow on the other half to keep it just as well hidden. I ignored the mutters that grew in number with every step.

"Hello" I managed to squeak. An eye peered around the edge of the locker door, expressing distinct alarm, which then settled to show a call detachment from any emotion whatsoever. He looked behind him as unnoticeably as he could manage with my eyes upon him, to make sure that it was he that I was speaking too.

"I-I'm Christine Daae, I'm new here. Who are you?" "Erik," he replied in a deep smooth voice that sent shivers down my spine, making me clutch my books closer to me in reaction. After a moments pause, I held out my hand to him. "Nice to meet you"

He glanced at my hand but otherwise ignored it as he closed his locker door, grabbing a few books firstly. He nodded his head in acknowledgement pulling on the edge of his hat. "You'll have to excuse my rudeness, but why on earth are you talking to me?" His unmasked eye peered at me, clear and green, summing me up, though I don't doubt he found some thing in my eyes, as I couldn't drag them away.

"I just – I…" He tilted his head to one side. "yes?" he leaned against the row of lockers. This act of quiet impatience made me take a deep breath and open my mouth reciting exactly what I was thinking. "When I walked in here, they were all so judgemental, you're the one person in here who isn't talking about some one behind their back." Rage appeared in his eyes, but he didn't shout as he next spoke to me. He pointed towards his mask. His quite voice was simmering openly with rage. "You think I couldn't possibly judge because of this?" He pushed off the lockers, but didn't walk away as I thought he would.

I shrunk away from him. He was fairly tall, and the dark clothes showed just how thin he really was. "No, not at all, the mask doesn't make you different from any one. You're better than half of the people I've ever met, you're better than all of them. You just seemed like a good person, on sight, inside and out, plus" I smiled warily, "you're the only person in here who isn't dressed up to date, modern and following suite. I'm like that too I…" I became aware I was babbling. "I liked old fashioned things" I breathed, looking away from his cold eyes. The shrill ring of the bell made my thoughts disappear. I became panicked as the stampede began, I had no idea where on earth I was supposed to go.

Warm breath in my ear. I shivered again. "Follow me," he spoke, but I was shocked as I looked up at him, he had a small smile on his face and a rosy shade on his ivory skin. And in his eyes, the same warmth that was in his voice echoed back. I smiled as we walked together. Things were already looking up.


	4. Chapter 4 - First day Part 2

Chapter 4 – new acquaintances 

It wasn't hard to walk through the crowds as I originally thought. Instead, it was rather like following the rush of a current sweeping you along as the tide came in. Every one was moving in the same direction, because these were the music home rooms. These were our corridors. It felt oddly wrong to be separated based on gifts. Gifts should join us and make us rejoice, but here they were cold categories. I could see why Erik had been wary of my approach, already I could feel the competition alive around me.

Erik followed behind me, as people lined up to go through the door, collecting their instruments on the way in. I turned suddenly bumping in to Erik's chest due to my turning against the stream of people. His hat drooped further over his eyes and I found my self suddenly very close to his chest. Blushing, we both stepped apart. "Which instrument do you play?" I asked, looking up at him slightly from beneath my eyelashes as he held the door open for me.

A flicker of pride in those forest green eyes, that pride symbolised a tiger, its strength unknown. He was some thing of another world as he wandered across the room, sitting in front of the large piano beside the orchestrated chair arrangement and chorister rows. "The piano," his rich voice replied, as his fingers stroked the keys producing a sea of sound. It echoed around the great hall creating music more beautiful than the vision God must have had as he painted his world.

But the rush of words piling in stopped him, he pardoned himself and walked over to the tenors, where he perched precariously on his seat, seeming out of place amongst these children. But his eyes followed me curiously, though every time I attempted to return his glance, I found he was looking away, at some far off point no one else could see. A master of disguise as well as a virtuoso.

A woman dressed in a lilac blouse wandered to the front of the class room, tapping a baton on an electric blue music stand that I could not comprehend. "Good morning students!" she cheered. The class smiled and chanted back at her. Her eyes caught mine, "Fresh meat," she beamed, "what name do you go by little faun?" My cheeks blushed crimson at the childish reference. The room turned to me giggling slightly, but Carlotta's sneer was louder than any, a loud croaking voice that reminded me of a toad.

"Christine Daae," I pinched my left hand out of nerves, my heart pumping so fast I could hear its steady beat echoing through my head along with numerous other thoughts, some pleasant and others drifting to the brink of inappropriate, such as running out of the doors and hiding up a tree until some one brought my parents back.

It hit me like a ton of bricks as they stared and whispered. I wouldn't be able to tell my parents about my first day at a new school. My parents die over and over again every day. My eyes flickered upwards to see the teachers warm smile. "I am Miss. Leroux, your form teacher, if you have any questions I am here to help. Also, say you need a friend or a good joke, I'm your girl," the class giggled, but I simply blushed deeper. "Now Miss. Daae, what is your weapon of choice?"

More expectant eyes turned to me. "My voice," I found myself answering. The words hung in the air for a few seconds, bouncing from the sound proof walls creating a shield around me that shattered as Miss. Leroux spoke. "Well, proceed" She shuffled backwards on to the stool behind her music stand, running her hand through her short auburn hair.

"I – I'm sorry?" Carlotta rolled her eyes at me as Miss Leroux folded her arms and looked me up and down as though I had just entered her class room from a space ship and asked her if she wanted to go and get ice cream. "Miss Daae, we are in a music class room, are we not?" "Yes" I mumbled, pinching my left hand harder, wincing as I felt the blood on my finger tips.

"Then I suggest you take advantage of it and go on to do great things. But before we can find you a place in our choral orchestra, we must hear what you can do," More silence. "Oh for crying out loud, I'll sing miss," Carlotted rose from her seat and began warming up. "That's quite alright Carlotta, I already know what you are capably of," Ah, so satan has a name. She glared at me, her freckled face red with embarrassment, cooking up a storm of revenge that would probably torment me to misery for the rest of my humble life as a student here.

"Now Christine, look at me, pretend there is no one else here, place your books down. That's it, now… stand up straight.. good good," She was nodding and her short hair was bouncing around her face and making her eyes dance. "Sing" "What should I sing ma'am?" "whatever feels right" her eyes squinted, summing me up, "Sing what you feel"

I closed my eyes, my fingers shaking and the words tumbled out no longer under my control, in a voice I hadn't used in quite some time.

_I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there,_

_I don't know if you would listen, to a gypsy's prayer,_

_Yes I know I'm just an outcast, I shouldn't speak to you,  
Still I see you're face and wonder, were you once an outcast too?_

I opened my eyes, but I didn't see them. I was Esmerelda, the gypsy girl trapped in the church, the people in the class room turned to nothing but statues as the song breezed by me, just like air. This was breathing. It was like having a wonderful nights sleep and having all the energy you could ever have to wander the entire world.

The words rang true, they spoke of injustice, ill treatement. If there was indeed a God above, why wasn't he helping us? Is this what he wanted? Did he want me to beg for him to help all of us? Because if that God were there at all, he hadn't shown himself yet. Not outside of the light through the stained glass angel. Before I knew it, I had come to the last few lines.

_I don't know if theres a reason, why some are blessed some not?_

_Why the few you seem to favour,_

_Fear us, Flee us, Pretend not to see us,_

_God help the outcasts, the tattered the torn,_

_Seeking an answer to why they were born,_

_Please help my people, the poor and downtrod,_

_I thought we all were, the children of God,_

_The poor and unlucky, the strange and the odd,_

_I thought we all were, the children of_

_God._

My grand crescendo ended. My eyes had fallen shut again and I opened them to a room of shocked faces. Then suddenly Miss. Leroux began to applaud me, her face alight with joy, as though she hadn't been expecting what had come out of me. I looked to Erik. His face was hidden, but I could see tears glinting on his cheek. My heart clenched. I had sung for him, for how those children treated him in the corridor. For the way they had isolated him from all that he deserved simply because of his mask.

Carlotta marched out of the room just as the bell rang, but the other students smiled at me, approached me, shaking my hand and saying they looked forward to meeting me. My eyes stayed on Erik, I just wanted to catch up with him and see if we had any other classes together. If not, I just wanted to see what he thought of me now. To see if I could truly have a friend in him.

But a tall figure stepped in front of me, blocked the way before I could catch up to him.


	5. Chapter 5 - New acquaintances

Chapter 5 – New acquaintances 

I looked up at the stranger; I'd never seen him before. Other girls were glaring at me dangerously as they filed out of the room to class, so I was guessing that this guy was a popular heartbreaker. And if that was the case, I simply wasn't interested. "Excuse me; I need to get to class." I tried to step around him, but he simply moved to one side.

"I thought we could have a little introduction first," he smiled hopefully, his blue eyes twinkling and long pale brown hair, tied back in to a pony tail. His designer clothes hinted at rich family. Ah, Meg had warned me of his kind: the tall coffee loving Jocks, who spent their time off the playing fields trying to woo girls in to dates that ultimately ended in a way I would rather not mention.

"Miss Leroux already introduced me in class…" I offered weakly, tucking a loose curl behind my ear as I again tried to step around him. I tricked him in to going one way when I went the other, managing to swoop out of the door and in to the hall way. My schedule said I had English literature first. One of my favourites; which was a good start. Unless the teacher was a horrific beast who wanted me to recite Shakespeare at the front of her class, to see how monotonous it sounded.

The door behind me from form swung again, shutting with a thud. This guy would just not quit it. "There must be more to you than a pretty voice and a beautiful face?" I felt his elbow nudge mine, as he kept up with me, his breathing steady. Of course, he was healthy; it would not take him much to keep up with me. The last exercise I had was the walk to school and a few swimming lessons from the age of 5 – 11. I had no co-ordination. That was why I was a musician.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded as I stopped out side of the door of my class room. I saw the triumph in his eyes – I was just another prize to be won. Nothing special. Nothing better than the rest.

He leaned against the wall, the same way Erik had leaned against his locker that morning. My anger went out like a candle when I thought of Erik. Why had I made him cry? I returned my attention to Raoul, who was staring at me still, with that same look. "A date, Tonight, pick you up at 5 from out side the gym," he winked and flounced off. He hadn't even let me agree. Hope it didn't break his heart too much when I never showed.

The minute I had sat down, the late bell rang and the teacher turned from the chalk board, her half moon spectacles sliding down her nose. Her class room was small and decorated with walls of wooden panelling and portraits of the great poets and musicians, though I had no idea what musicians had to do with literature or English class, half of them were Austrian.

"Good morning," she bid with a heavy accent, she was clearly from France. I could see that now, from the clothes she wore, full of lace and her elegant grey hair trained in to a bun, like a ballet dancer. "Today we will be discussing the great poetry of Anne Sexton" Two of the jocks at the back of the class room laughed immaturely. "Yes, yes, go ahead laugh, but we will see who is laughing when you two are in detention" The laughing ceased abruptly. Wow. Tough crowd.

"You will each write it in your exercise books, oh yes dear?" she said, pushing her spectacles further up her nose and turning away from the board, chalk in hand, when she noticed I had my hand up. "I don't have a book miss –" "Where are my manners going?" she smiled sheepishly as she handed me a blank blue book. "They must be going with my age." "No surprise there" one of the jocks whispered. She frowned and looked away from me at them for a moment. "Boys" she laughed. I smiled shakily back.

"My name is Mrs. Rosé, not the most original of names I know, but it is tres jolie, don't you think?" "Yes ma'am" I agreed. She was already my second favourite person at this school. With her wise twinkling eyes and apparent knowledge of the greats, how could she not be? I wrote the poem out in my book, not really studying the words or acknowledging them, knowing that I would study them later that evening when there were fewer distractions. I couldn't concentrate with a class of eyes focused on me.

For the rest of the lesson we analysed a second poem called Alone. It was also by Sexton, and it struck me particularly how they talked about the doctors of millionaires curing their hearts of stone, whilst the rest of the world could not survive on their own. Although the poem was not a happy one, it was beautiful none the less. The poet managed to pack so much of her soul in to it and reveal that we are not each individually destined to feel madness, we all end up feeling it at some time or other. Some more frequently feel alone, than others do. I always felt the outsider, apart from when I was with Meg. Apart from when I was with my family. But they were nearly all gone now.

As the teacher informed us we could pack our things away, I found myself walking over towards her desk. "Mrs. Rosé?" "Yes dear?" she replied, her back towards me as she erased chalk from the board which was covered in her squiggly attempts at analysing alone and also contained the remnants of the second poem she asked us to copy down. "I just wondered, about the portraits that is, why do you have portraits of musicians in an English class room? What does music have to do with English and literacy?" She turned and smiled down at me. "You're not the first to ask me that"

The bell interrupted our conversation, it seemed to have a habit of doing so. But before I could leave, she answered me, with words that would change my opinion of music forever. "Music itself is a language, it allows us as a world to communicate. Isn't that what literature is? It allows us to understand emotions, to put the way we feel across to another. Poets and musicians alike are immortal because of their life times work. Like a wise man said; we cannot be good at every thing," her eyes were aglow with knowledge "No one can know every thing. And so you see, Christine, music and language is not as different as you originally may have thought"

I bid my Thankyou and goodbye before continuing to my next class, which was music theory in a blur. My lesson passed quickly, I introduced myself, was given a text and exercise book to work from, we learnt about the Chopin Waltz and the circle of fifths in composition and then I found myself on my feet, leaving again for morning break. I couldn't find Erik, so I just stood for fifteen minutes outside maths, once I found it, eating a yoghurt I had grabbed from the fridge that morning before my aunt could drive me to school, though she said I could take the bus, with Meg, after today.

Maths passed by quickly, then again so did technology which followed after, the lunch break and my final lesson were what made all the difference and changed my opinion and days at the school forever. At afternoon break, again Erik was no where to be found. Disappointed at the absence of my only friend, I looked every where. The library, the open class rooms, the cafeteria. After a while, I was beginning to give up, when I turned around, nearly having a heart attack to see him standing behind me, a smirk on his lips and unreadable eyes. "Looking for some one?" he asked. I blushed and chuckled nervously. "perhaps…" I responded. Trying to look any where but those eyes.

When I did look up at them, there was a storm there and some kind of passion which suddenly froze as he pointed to a corner, "De Chagny is over there" he muttered with disgust pointing at Raoul, who was waving his arms trying to get my attention. I rolled my eyes and Erik laughed. "I was actually looking for you" He smiled. "Were you now? Now that is interesting…" his voice trailed off and my blush deepened. "Come, this way, there is much to discuss" He turned and I had no choice but to follow the tall dark Erik in the direction of the school theatre.


	6. Chapter 6 - Lost secrets

Chapter 6 – Lost secrets

The lights in the theatre sprung to life when he flicked the switch by the door, glinting off the smooth black stage floor, scuffed from years worth of dancers and moving props. The velvet seats were folded and empty, rows ascending upwards to the very back wall which was painted a pale red, their cushion framed with a metal painted gold. But my favourite thing about the grand theatre, big enough to seat the whole town, was the glass chandelier which hung over my head. It seemed too difficult an accomplishment to imagine this theatre was not new.

Our Victorian inherit age; due to great care, you had the illusion of going back in time the moment you stepped inside. Erik was already at the stage by the time I had snapped out of my gawping, walking over to the glossy black piano still left out from the ballet practice. I ran down the steps towards him, cursing my every breath, every step, and promising myself to beg Meg for dancing lessons so I could get fitter the moment I got home, even before dinner.

"Welcome," he smiled at me, his visible cheek had a dimple when he smiled. He took his coat off and threw it in to the West wing "To my theatre, my home," he threw his arms out either side of him, "Isn't it beautiful?" his eyes were gazing out from the stage, a far off twinkle searching for infinity.

I wondered for a moment what it was exactly he was seeing. Perhaps an audience showering him with applause and roses? Maybe the stars in a clear summer night? He turned to me, his arms by his sides now, his wide smile hidden and his eyes showing so many things that I desired to comprehend but could not. "Its like nothing I've ever seen before," I nodded at him warmly, but his eyes darkened at this, I could tell a storm was brewing. The comfortable silence crumbled.

He turned from me, walking towards the piano where he settled and began to play, his head bowed over the keys, almost as in defeated prayer. I remembered his tears that morning, and the guilt pinched my stomach before it doubled at my realisation. My mind gaped in horror at my careless mistake, noting too late his change in mood; he must have thought I meant his mask. I didn't mean that, now all I wished to do was to apologise.

Treading carefully, I walked over to stand beside him. My hand reached out as though to place itself on his shoulder. But he didn't seem like one for personal contact, if anything he seemed as though he tried to avoid it completely. The notes from a soft Swedish lullaby my father used to croon to me as a child flowed out of the piano, making my eyes sting with the promise of tears if I let myself indulge in self pity so instead I refused and allowed my head to only be filled with detached sounds of notes, that's all they were.

The notes built in to a crescendo before they fell and disappeared in to the air. The silence continued. Now was my chance to speak. "I wanted to apologise," I could almost feel him smirk even though I couldn't see his face. "Oh and why would that be?" His fingers twitched over the keys, and I knew he was simply trying to focus just in order to remain polite, otherwise he would find himself playing over me. "Because I think I might have offended you…"

He didn't stir, he remained silent for a few seconds. Then before I could speak any further his voice rang out coldly, "Pretty hard to do, seems as I barely know you, also I don't get offended." At this point he did carry on playing. I could feel that growl of anger beginning at the pit of my stomach but I ignored it. "Its ok to be offended" I stated, fidgeting with the hem of my jumper. "Really, I get offended by the smallest of things, its just how life works."

His fingers crashed for a second, because I don't think he was expecting me to say any thing like that. But then he picked up the melody and carried on playing. His music brighter than the spot light, melting away the ice around my heart that had been building, rekindling its beat after so many days of being a living corpse. Since… since they died.

"Well," he murmured clearing his throat, "Little people have simple minds." My face stung as though he had slapped me. But why would he insult me, when I had shown him nothing but kindness? All I wanted to do was be there for him, be his friend. "We are all little people," I spoke through gritted teeth. "Speak for yourself" he mumbled, his fingers dancing sleepily over the high keys.

At this, my easily triggered temper boiled over. "Now look here!" I cried, placing both of my hands on his shoulder. He flinched and jumped up turning to face me, the piano lid slamming shut. His eyes were wary and guarded. This moment would define every thing I had learnt about this school over the past few hours. This was my first test at Lake-Side.

"I might not be the prettiest person, or the most confident, or the best at maths. There are a lot of things I cannot do. But I am any thing but a small person. Yes, I get offended easily, and I may have an uncontrollable temper," I could feel my face heating up and my eyes prickling with tears of annoyance and loneliness, "But I am a person and I refuse to be spoken to that way. I offered you an apology because you mistook what I said, about never seeing any thing like it." I gulped and turned away from him, facing out at the theatre.

"I was talking about the theatre, you thought I was talking about your mask" I shook my head and turned back to him again. "But even if I was, your mask is just that a mask, what ever is beneath it does not matter. Let me be your friend, please, let me show you that not all of the people in the world are inferior or prejudiced or judgemental."

His voice was quiet as he murmured, "You don't know what its like to be on your own, and to have no one." A dark chuckle erupted from my throat and he glared at me. "Again, you presume before you state. Both of my parents are… are…" Tears were trailing down my face, and the words poured out by themselves like some twisted sort of vomit, forcing itself out of my body after being bottled up for so long.

"Both of my parents are dead and gone. My cousin doesn't understand me and my aunt thinks I can take care of myself. No one has tried to let me talk about it, the people I thought were my friends only liked me because my parents were famous and the worst part is…" My eyes scrunched up. "The worst part is I don't even know you properly, but you've already worked your way in to my head. Because I thought that you might understand, that you might listen, but you're behaving just like all of them."

His eyes widened as he caught on to my words. "Be m- my friend?" His arms had been crossed across his chest, but now they fell limply by his sides. "Be my friend" he repeated walking over to me, ignoring my intake of breath as his hand pushed my chin up so he could look in to my face. His eyes drank in mine, his fingers dusting over my cheek bones, my eye brows, the arch of my nose and forehead. He gulped and stepped back. "I would – would like to be your friend" He whispered fidgeting with his hands.

My anger dissipated. "I'm glad," I managed to form. Absentmindedly, I found my fingers brushing over the piano keys and wondered how I had reached there. Erik's eyes were there on my back, following my every move. Moving my feet, I perched on the edge of the piano stool. "You play?" he asked curiously. Wandering around, he leaned against the piano, his elbow supporting his chin to keep it up.

"Not very well," was my response, as I tried and failed not to look in to his eyes. "Me and my mother used to play duets when I was younger, she taught me. I haven't played since she…" My mouth closed, refusing to let me finish my sentence. He seemed to catch on and understand though. Nodding, he responded, "You don't have to be afraid of playing you know, his hands covered my hands. My breath caught in my throat, as his fingers led mine across the keys in the Chopin waltz.

"All pain can be transformed in to beauty," he murmured, his breath shifting the curls by my shoulder. "It just depends what you make of it." With that, he removed his hands from mine. "Play me some thing." His previously soft voice now demanded me. Not loudly, but with a sense of power that could not be denied. "B-but all of my pieces involve" gulp "Singing" I squeaked.

Shoulder shrug "That's a bonus then I guess." I couldn't help but blush at the in obvious compliment, and although I didn't say Thankyou, my blush was enough to note by him. "You're most welcome" he chuckled. "Now, please, from the beginning of the aria."

At his request, after a few minutes of silence, I launched in to a beautiful piece called think of me. It was a soprano's heart break, one of those pieces so easy to perfect – that is until you get to the end. Mother always swore that the cadenza would be the death of her, though she always sounded perfect to me.

Luckily, my throat was well exercised from my piece earlier in the day and I managed to reach the high note without any problems, although it left that pleasant tingling feeling that most people describe as burning in its tracks. When I had finished, I removed my foot from the sustain peddle and rose quickly walking over to Erik's side. His hands grabbed mine and suddenly he was stood right in front of me, his eyes burning with excitement, brighter than a sky full of fireflies in the country house father used to rent in school holidays.

"Your voice its, its…" he seemed dazed. How could it be that some thing so simple as my voice had transformed his previously mercurial demeanour in to some thing captivating and beautiful. "The most magnificent thing I have heard in my life," my blush deepened as my eyes searched his. He was telling me the truth. "That's the nicest thing any one had ever said to me" my smile was soft, I guess it resembled my speechlessness. "Thankyou" My voice was light and quiet.

Suddenly, I was aware of how close we were standing. If I reached out my hand, I would be able to trace the mask he wore, to take it from his face, but I would never do that, his trust meant too much to me, it was only just beginning. I couldn't betray him on our first day of meeting. I could never betray him. "Let me teach you," He suddenly spoke, voice rich and filling my mind. "Let me make you the best," his fingers shifted the edge of my scarf and my face was burning again.

"But there's only one place for a lead soprano at this school, Carlotta I-" My head shook side to side "I cannot compete with her, I'm not strong enough to do that" Turning away, his arm stopped me. "Then let me make you strong enough." My mouth opened to answer, although I still didn't have any words in my head, well not words strung coordinated in to full sentences with correct grammar. But before I had a chance to answer, the phone my aunt had given me that morning rang in my pocket. The sound of Shostakovich symphony 5 startled us both I think, only Erik didn't show it other than a flicker of annoyance in his eyes that our conversation had been interrupted.

Smiling apologetically, I pulled the phone from my jeans, flipping it open a text from Meg opened up on my screen. **Hi there Chrissy ;) where are you? We were supposed to be meeting for lunch remember? Any who, you have missed out on the most awesome cafeteria scene gossip. Just make sure you meet me and Elle after school out side Cedar park, we're going to her house for dinner, Mothers meeting us there :-) **

Well, there went all chance of getting to know Erik better. Turning quickly, I grabbed my bag and nodded to him a goodbye. "I wish I could stay, but I need to find –" "You never answered my question, will you let me teach you?" Startled I turned to look at him, bad mistake, the force of his voice and his eyes all at once was hypnotising. "Yes, I'd like that" was my slow response. He smiled and my mind was empty of every thing else but that image. "Lessons begin tomorrow after school, here. See you then" Then he turned, silently, marching back to the stage with long strides.

Dazed for a few seconds, I stared after him. But then the bell rang and I turned quickly, my mind filled with confused thoughts of mysterious masked musicians and a mess of where the history class room was. The door slammed behind me and hastily, I made my way after the crowds, hoping they were going the same way as me. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long.

History sped by and by the time it was over, my head was still puzzling over where Mozart could possibly have been buried that it would be so hard to locate. But unlike literacy, I kept my queries to myself. The professor, a doctor Firmin, who had dark hair, a sarcastic demeanour and a handle bar moustache. His constant suspicious gaze and condescending speech already caused me to dislike him against my better will of not judging people from first impressions.

Walking over to Cedar park only took me a few minutes, in the sea of people exiting the school, my eyes searched for him, but I didn't see him any where. Some thing inside me seemed to fade and I realised, I had been hoping to talk to him again before the day was out. Instead, all I had was the promise of a two hour dinner and then an evening filled with home work.

"Christine!" My head snapped up, a smile on my face, only to fade as I whirled around and carried on walking. "Christine! Wait up!" Oh heavens, why wouldn't that ridiculous boy just leave me alone! "Excuse me," I mumbled avoiding peoples stares and trying to get past. When Carlotta came in to the middle of my path. All I could see were a large heeled pair of shoes, bright purple with fluorescent pink and green feathers. They were hideous and resembled Barney the dinosaur. I tried to contain my giggles as I looked up to her face, twisted in to an angry school as she looked down at me.

"Well, what do we have here? A little toad perhaps?" Her two friends laughed, until she raised a hand in annoyance to cut them off. "Now listen here, I'm the lead singer at this school, so don't even think of acting all innocent when you're trying to take my place!" "I swear, I'm not trying to take your place in any thing" I smirked at her "Besides, if I were going to take your place, I wouldn't have to try very hard." As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I wanted to make her annoyed, the way she made me feel. Instead I had just angered her in to hating me all the more.

I remained staring her down with a straight face. Her eyebrow twitched in irritation. Her mouth fumbled for some thing to say, before she let out an angered sigh, stomped her foot, shoved me over and carried on marching towards our home room, where I presumed she must have left some thing.

The books and sheet music I had been carrying lay in disarray around me. I knelt hurriedly, trying to collect it all, gathering it in to a messy pile. Please don't let him see me, let him continue on, I prayed in my head. But a shadow knelt beside me. Raoul – eurgh. "Here let me help you," he smiled. His hands reaching out to the same piece of paper I was reaching for. "No Thankyou" I replied, snatching it up before he could. His 50 watt smile faltered. My biting remark seemed to have knocked him off guard. He was used to girls swooning all over him I bet. I was no damsel though.

Gathering every thing quickly, I slung my backpack over my shoulder. But before I could walk away, his hand pulled my shoulder back. "I was only trying to help" he stated innocently enough with a puppy dog face. "Fine, Thankyou" but his hand still trapped me against the railing by the door. "Well, if that's all I'll just be going." His hand didn't move.

"I'm looking forward to our date tonight" he smiled as his hand slid from my shoulder to my hand, as he continued walking hence dragging me with him, whilst I tried to remove him from me. "I'm sorry Raoul, I won't be showing up tonight." I breathed in deeply, trying to settle my anger and to soften my voice. "I just don't like you that way and I erm…. I'm sorry, but I really don't want to be in a relationship right now." His hand dropped arm and he glared at me.

"Then why on earth did you say yes?!" He questioned, his eyes squinted in mild disapproval. "You didn't give me much of a choice." I responded. "Now if you'll allow me to get out of the door, I need to meet my cousin." Our shoulders brushed as I walked out on to the pavement of the street. Looking forward, only a little while away, I could see Meg and Elle sat on a bench in front of the park gates by the tree that gave the old park its name. Looking back, all I could see was the sadness written all over Raouls face as he slumped away through the canteen to the art rooms.

Some where inside me, a voice was telling me to go back, apologise and beg for him to be my friend. But another part of me, the bigger part, told me that I had done the right thing, because how could I go out with a guy after knowing him for only a day?

Elles House was nice, quite large, bigger than my aunts with around 30 rooms. One of those beautiful houses you only ever see in TV shows. She had so many brothers and sisters, around 14 in total, alongside the pet cat called Frosty. It was mind blowing seeing so many people all related in one big house like that. I couldn't help being jealous that they all had each other.

There was Tom, the oldest who was nearly 18 and was studying film and animation at college around 25 minutes in to town. Then there was Jess, his twin, who talked to me for so long all about horoscopes and what they show relating to philosophy and psychology. After Jess was Dominic who is a year behind the twins, then Marcus, Sophia, Luchia, Prim, Grace, Lucas, Marius (her mother was a fan of the musical les miserables at the time of his birth) Robert, Poppy, Stephen and little Samuel, who had chocolate all around his face when his mother strapped him into his high chair.

Despite Elle having so many brothers and sisters, I found that she still was just as loud and crazy as me and Meg were, despite being far from the loudest, eldest or youngest. Dinner was quite an interesting affair indeed. We gathered around the large table, taking our seats and dragging in extra ones, all of them mismatching with patch work cushions. Mrs Drewan was seated at one end of the table, with my aunt at the other.

"So Christine, is Lake-side to your liking so far?" asked my aunt before eating a forkful of chicken and lettuce leaves. "Oh yes, school is quite lovely, there is the most exquisite theatre and all of the teachers seem quite pleasant," My fork danced around my plate, despite the delicious content I found myself unable to eat yet, my stomach all butterflies.

Tom nodded from his seat next to me, "I know what you mean" he chuckled, "I was never fond of Firmin either." I gaped at him. How on earth did he know my opinion without my telling. His laugh grew, "There aren't that many horrible staff, but if there was one you wouldn't like, guessing from your rather quiet disposition, I would place my bets on the old man."

Meg giggled and I rolled my eyes. She had a huge crush on Tom, which both me and Elle found repulsive, after all, the guy had a pile of dirty socks taller than his guitar. She glanced over at me, placing a hand on her heart dramatically. "The dance school must be much lighter on manners than the music" I joked and Meg choked on her glass of water, the liquid spurting from her nose and Poppy copied her, whilst Elle just recorded the whole thing. "Youtube" her voice sang, as the table fell in to a pleasant silence, every one recovering from the laughter stomach ache.

Meg looked up at me, strands of her icy blonde hair falling out of the bun on her head. "Did you make any friends?" she enquired, as Luchia, Prim and Sophie helped their mother gather the plates and hand out small sundae glasses filled with chocolate ice cream they had made themselves with the use of Hershey's chocolate bars, my mouth watered at the sight.

"Well-" Megs eyes lit up as my voice trailed off shyly, "You like a boy already?" her voice was excited, and I could feel her interrogation radiating off her like some sort of hideous threatening perfume. "Who? Is he a musician too?" In my head I mentally laughed at her, because there was no way I could have fallen for a non musical guy in a music school.

"I don't like a guy, well I do but just as friends, he's been extremely kind to me, the only person to be kind to me in all truth," I stirred my ice cream, watching it melt around the metal of the spoon, leaving chocolate chips in milky pools. "His name is Erik" The table was silent. Megs eyes widened. "Erik Destler? THE Erik Destler?" she gaped at me. Every one elses eyes were on us curiously. "You've heard of him then?" her reaction had sparked my curiosity, and I was intrigued.

"Only from rumours from the other dancers," she blushed, "he plays in the school orchestra and he's really good but-" she gasped nervously, "he wears that mask on the side of his face, and he always seems so silent and mysterious, I just don't understand how he could ever be described as kind. What on earth did you talk about?"

Eyes on me. "Well… he heard me sing in form time, and he suggested that he could help to train me." Tom laughed next to me and I glared at him. "Wow, this guy is pretty full of himself if he thinks he's good enough to teach you" I frowned, my eye brows crumpling over my eyes. "You haven't heard him play" both me and Meg said in unison. I smiled at her, grateful for her support. She smiled weakly, and almost nervously back.

"Its like he is music himself," I found myself whispering. "That music reached out to me in a way no other has, not in my whole life. It was like water and fire all in one, enough to freeze and burn you." Thirteen year old Luchia twisted her hair around her fingers, the strands getting caught in the rubber wrist bands with boy band names hanging around hand. The smell of the popular strawberry lipgloss and body spray she was obsessed with floated across the table. "Wow, you're sooo lucky," she sighed "Masked and mysterious, it sounds like a romance novel"

"The kind you shouldn't be reading at your age," Mrs. Drewan frowned at the girl, who only smiled back, all long red hair and wide green eyes. "But mother," she drawled sweetly, too sweetly, "You let Dominic read those awfully revealing magazines on the erm… anatomy of the female body," every one at the table tried to refrain laughter, as Dominic spluttered an unintelligible response before excusing himself and fleeing the room.

Glad of the subject change, I gladly chatted with the remaining diners and my relatives. Within the hour, the only people left at the table were me, Meg, Elle and their mothers. As the clock struck nine, Auntie turned to us and said "I think we should go home now girls, its getting quite late and it's a school night." We all agreed, despite wanting to stay longer I was exhausted. Meg and Elle hugged as though they would never see each other again and I shook hands, thanking her for the lovely meal.

She smiled at me, waiting until Auntie and Meg were in the car before she leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Your auntie seems uninterested, but she wants to see you kept safe as much as I do, so just promise me you'll be careful around this Erik boy, and all others at that ok?" she implored, her eyes earnest and determined.

Feeling a sense of comfort at her compassion for my well being I smiled at her, " I promise," She squeezed my hand before watching me trail over to the car.

When I looked back at the house, the door was closed and the only sign of life was the wind blowing through the flowers that lined the window ledges. I turned back to face the front window, my ears deaf to the sound of traffic, of Meg and her mother gossiping about some new celebrity on the scene and tried to focus on the monotonous blur coming out of the radio speakers behind me.

But all I could hear was the elegant voice that had been haunting me since I heard it first thing this morning.


End file.
